


Maybe This Time

by LovelyZelda



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-29
Updated: 2010-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-01 02:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyZelda/pseuds/LovelyZelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not the first time Spock and McCoy have gotten into a fight after Jim's funeral, but this time it might be different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe This Time

**Author's Note:**

> I went back and forth on when exactly to set this and found there was absolutely no way to avoid any hints to TOS-era vs movies era. It's vague, but more Generations vague than "Tholian Web" vague.

Spock was not entirely sure when he had learned that Dr. McCoy did not give eulogies, and he had been unable to determine if this was a logical trait for McCoy to have.

If anyone were able to make that determination, it would be Spock--he was so well versed in McCoy's behavior and personality that he was able to predict, almost to the minute, when the doctor would appear at his door, red-eyed and slightly haggard.

"You busy?" McCoy asked.

"I am not," said Spock.  He had been meditating.  It would be of no use to either of them if he admitted that it had been unsatisfactory.  He had neither been able to concentrate nor to completely master his emotions.

"Well?"

"You have only asked if I am busy, not if you may enter."

McCoy looked shocked, then almost immediately angry.  "You're going to do this _now_?  You wouldn't have opened the god damned door if you weren't--"

"It is not too late for you to learn to say what you mean, Doctor," said Spock.

McCoy glared at him.  Spock wondered if he had miscalculated, and if McCoy would "storm off".  Instead the human sighed, and his shoulders slumped, an obvious sign that the "fight had gone out of him"--at least temporarily.  "Spock, move your green blooded ass and go make me a drink."

Spock moved.  "I believe you are quite capable of fulfilling your second request."

He followed McCoy to the small cabinet Spock kept stocked for human visitors--which had mostly been stocked by his two most frequent guests.  "I find it odd that you were unable to locate a more suitable source of alcohol than--"

"Shut up, Spock."

Spock watched McCoy take a glass--he referred to them as "old fashioned" even though Spock could not identify any characteristics that distinguished them from modern glassware.  When he had pointed this out, McCoy had either rolled his eyes or smiled at him and given some ridiculously facetious answer; Spock suspected neither of them was in the mood for that ritual.

"Scotty offered to get me good and drunk," McCoy said as he poured.  "Almost took him up on it."

"Perhaps you should have," said Spock.  He did not understand his own behavior.  He wished to provoke McCoy, but he wished for him to remain.

"I knew I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about...what happened.  And after a few drinks, I'd...I wouldn't be fair."  McCoy stared at the wall and consumed almost the entire drink.

"The Vulcan method of emotional suppression has fewer negative side effects."

McCoy turned to him.  "And is the Vulcan method _working_?"

"No."

McCoy finished the drink and poured a second one.

"Doctor, what is it you want from me?  You rarely seek out my company without a specific motivation."  This was entirely accurate if one assumed a broad definition of "specific motivation".

"You know damn well why I'm here."

"Explain."

"Can't let you just sit here al--"

"Additional beings will not change the circumstances.  And may I remind you, Vulcans do not 'wallow'."

McCoy looked intently at him.  "Didn't say anything about 'wallowing', Spock."

"You would have made similar accusations eventually."

"Maybe I should've just let you stew."  McCoy set his glass down and folded his arms.  "God damned cold blooded--"

"How is it that you consistently fail to understand the Vulcan--"

McCoy pushed him against the wall; Spock was too startled by this sudden action to prevent its conclusion.  "I know you're feeling just as bad as me right now."  McCoy was speaking in a low, hard edged voice--illogically a sign that he was far angrier than if he had been shouting.  "Shit, you might even feel worse.  It's that you try to pretend you're above it all--that's what pisses me off, Spock.  Not that you don't feel, but that you keep trying to lie about it."

Spock could feel the anger crackling off McCoy--and the grief, dark and heavy and senseless, worse than his own because Spock had been putting so much effort into mastering his (even if he had been failing).  "And would it make everything better if I were to lay my head on your bosom and weep?"

McCoy shoved him--unnecessarily as Spock hadn't moved.  "How is it that _you_ consistently fail to understand?"

"If you wish to discuss emotion, Doctor, I suggest--"

"No," said McCoy.  "I don't think I want to talk to you at all."

McCoy kissed him roughly.  This was unsurprising--it was hardly the first time such a thing had occurred while they were in close proximity and McCoy was furious.

Spock let McCoy hold him against the wall with one hand and unfasten and move aside his clothing with the other. 

At this point in his life, Spock had learned that this was not the time to mention how completely illogical they were both being.  He could feel McCoy's anger on his lips and the hand gripping his side.  His anger wasn't for Spock, but because Spock was something tangible that could be lashed out at--and, unlike Scott and Chekhov, Spock was accustomed to it.  On this occasion, McCoy's frustrated anger took the form of his tongue in Spock's mouth and his teeth pulling on Spock's lower lip and his hips thrusting against Spock as he kept him against the wall. 

Spock accepted this as readily as he would have accepted a standard argument--highly illogical, but a welcome distraction.  He did not think he ever welcomed the mental chaos brought by arousal and sexual stimulation as much as he did when McCoy thrust between his thighs and gripped one of Spock's hands.  Spock allowed himself to respond vocally--he doubted McCoy was listening.

McCoy had no interest in pointing out that they were too old to be doing this without even enough patience to move to a suitable surface, and there was no one else to tease them and say that they were the only beings who could turn sex into an argument (or an argument into sex).  Since there was no one to ask if they were ever going to learn how to get along, McCoy's short nails dug into the back of Spock's hand, and Spock pinched and fondled the base of McCoy's neck as if he'd forgotten he wasn't another Vulcan.

It was over quickly.  Their eyes met, and Spock wished he had thought to prolong the activity--he could see McCoy slowly coming back to what had happened and why they were there.

"You know, I think this has got to be a new record," McCoy said, laughing in a short way that sounded forced.  "For you not telling me how obvious it is and that there's still a chance."  He looked down, his hands still on Spock's hip and shoulder.  "Times like this you were always better at hoping than I was.  I mean, how fucked up is that?"

"It is quite 'fucked up,'" said Spock.

"What're we going to do?"

For one brief, insane moment, Spock actually considered placing his hand on McCoy's forehead and making him forget.  It would be an impossible task, and he suspected it would do a great deal of harm.  "I think you are going to have a great deal to drink, and we--"

"No, I mean...tell me what I'm missing.  That obvious, logical sign that means there's still a chance."  McCoy's hands tightened on him.  "Just tell me what to do.  I...I won't fight you on it this time."

"Leonard," said Spock, no longer caring how much his voice revealed, "I am afraid that this time is different."


End file.
